Broken
by butterflyswest
Summary: The pen is mightier than the sword, and Ray finds that the cliche is all too true.
1. Chapter 1

_Here we are again, but this time we've gone a whole other direction. Please, let us know what you think. As always, your reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated._

_Yours,_

_butterflyswest and Erin Allen_

Ray sighed heavily as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. He would have taken the elevator, but it was broken again. After the day he had just survived, he was just one crisis away from the nuthouse. His bag dragged at his shoulder as he scuffed to his apartment. He hadn't even wanted to come home tonight. There was nothing here that he really cared about anymore. It seemed cold and far too empty, even with his clutter scattered all over the place. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, shooting the deadbolt as he shut the door with a bang. He involuntarily winced before he remembered that there was no one here to complain about the noise. He let his bag slide from his shoulder to the floor and simply stood, staring at the darkened apartment.

Christ, but this was hell.

Hanging his jacket neatly on the peg that Neela had installed—_she was everywhere in here—_he went to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. He fished a beer from the shelf, twisted off the top, and tossed the cap in the general direction of the garbage. He shook his head and turned away when the cap bounced off the rim and rolled under the fridge. At least no one would see the damn thing under there. Not that there was anyone here to see it. He sighed and drained half the bottle in one swig. He had to stop this. Now, before he really did go insane.

Dodging stacks of sheet music and piles of clothes that just never seemed to find their way to the hamper, he went to the living room and flopped on the couch. It took ten minutes to find the remote inside an empty pizza box. He flipped on the tube, wondering if this god-forsaken day was ever going to end. He watched the flickering screen, sipping his beer, not really watching what was going on. Halfway through the program, he snapped the TV off and tossed the remote on the table. It was useless. He just couldn't concentrate. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to relax.

He could still see the stunned, almost sick look on Luka's face when he had come into the trauma room. He could still feel the way his stomach had turned when Luka had given them the news that the Casualty Officer was there to see Neela. He'd wanted to go then and find her, hold her, let her know that he was there for her. Tell her that he would always be there for her, no matter what.

He'd felt like the worst sort of ass, when she had finally shown up in the ER, elated about her surgical residency. There she was, happy as hell that she'd finally taken a huge step in her career, and he was about to shatter everything. It tore him apart inside when she'd gone off about no one being happy for her. It had taken everything he had to keep from gathering her into his arms then, if only to keep her from the pain that he was about to inflict on her.

But he couldn't keep it from her. Not then, and not now.

With a groan, he shoved to his feet and went down the hall. When was it that things had gone to shit? He couldn't pinpoint one set event or time. All he knew was that he couldn't help her. It had almost brought him to his knees when he'd found her on the roof, and she had told him to just stay the hell away from her. Didn't she understand that he was only trying to help? That he would have kept her from the hurt if he could have?

He shoved open the door to her room and leaned heavily in the doorway, his eyes roaming over the place that she had once filled with light. Now it was nothing more than a half empty room, without personality, without soul. Crossing the room, he sat on the floor, his back supported by the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was going crazy. He could feel it. Had he ever hurt this much; so much that it was a struggle to just breathe? He hurt for himself, and her, and for everything that wasn't going to be. Ever.

Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, he dropped his hands to his sides to rest on the floor, suddenly too tired to move. Something crackled beneath his right hand and he frowned. _What the hell..? _

It was just a plain ivory envelope, but it was that handwriting on the outside that caught him around the heart. He picked it up, holding it in his hands like a live bomb. He felt his pulse begin to roar in his ears, and he dragged air into his lungs in hard gusts. There was only one word written on the front, "Ray", in her neat almost prissy handwriting. Nothing else, but it had the force of a blow in what it did to him. He felt knocked for a loop, staggering from it.

With hands that shook, he tore open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper that exactly matched the envelope. Neela's stationary, neatly folded with almost military precision. He smiled sadly. She was nothing if not neat. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, smoothing it out against his knee. He was almost afraid to read what was written in that precise scrawl across the entire front of the paper, but he knew he would. He glanced at the date at the top of the letter and cringed inwardly. She had written this the day she moved out. He steeled himself for what was surely a kiss off letter and nearly fell over at the first line. He blinked against the sudden burning in his eyes and swallowed back the bitter lump in his throat.

_Dear Ray,_

_Writing this letter to you is just as daft as writing those letters the night Dr. Carter left. I know that you will never read this. I could never allow that, but I have to handle this somehow. I can't tell anyone else how I feel._

_I want you to know that I am moving out, not because it's something I want, but because it's something I must do. I'm married, Ray, and I shouldn't be having these feelings for you. I shouldn't be dreaming of you. Nor should I wonder what would have happened had things been different. I shouldn't be you in my thoughts instead of my husband, but you are. Always. And I don't know how to stop._

_I don't know what or how it happened—that I should feel these things, but it did, and I don't know how to deal with it. You've always been there for me, even when my husband wasn't. I keep telling myself that there isn't anything between us, but my heart just refuses to listen. Mostly, I think, that if I hadn't rushed into marrying Michael, then things could have been different. _

_But they aren't, and that is how it must be._

_I hope that, one day, you will understand that I am not doing this to hurt you. I am doing it to save you…to save us both from what I feel. You know me better than my own husband, and that is simply terrifying. You've touched places inside me that he would never even believe were there, and that, more than anything scares me. I can't be in love with one man and be married to another. It isn't fair to either of you. This is the only way to ensure that it goes no further, that I don't do something that will destroy us both. _

_I'm sorry, Ray. I'm truly, deeply sorry._

_Love,_

Neela 

Ray let the paper fall from his fingers without seeing it. She loved him. He put his hands over his face and could see her behind his eyes as she had been on the roof, struggling to stay calm, fighting for control. He had wanted nothing more than to drive away some of the pain, to give her some comfort. Then he remembered the look in her eyes when she'd told him to stay the hell away from her. The look of shock mixed with guilt. She loved him, and now her husband was dead. She had driven him away to save herself from more pain.

His chest tight with tears he refused to shed, Ray plucked the letter from the floor and pushed up from the floor. He tucked the letter back into the envelope and simply stood there, staring down at it. She had never meant for him to see this. She hadn't wanted him to ever know that she loved him. Somehow, that hurt more than all the rest of it. He understood her reasons, but that didn't make it any easier. Turning his back on the empty room, he went to the door. He couldn't look back as he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, everyone! We want to thank everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! We really appreciate everything you had to say. We just couldn't wait to finish this chapter, so we hope that you'll like it. As always, please let us know what you think._

_Yours,_

_butterflyswest and Erin Allen_

2

Ray stared out the window on the El, not really seeing the city as it passed his window. His mind was still on the letter he had found, as it had been every day since the night he'd read it, and the ache in his chest that was now a permanent reminder of what had happened. His eyes burned from another sleepless night he'd somehow survived. He felt as if he'd been hit with a garbage truck and wondered if he would even be able to make it through the day.

With effort, he pulled himself out of the seat at his stop, and walked from the station to the hospital. He paused at the entrance, trying to decide if he even wanted to go in. It wasn't too late to just call in, but in the end, he did what he could to pull himself together and crossed the threshold.

He almost turned around and went back out. The place was packed. Morris was running around like an over stimulated squirrel and the nurses looked as if they had seen better days. He pushed through the crush and stifled a bitter laugh. He knew exactly how they felt. He'd never thought that he would be the kind to put work in front of everything else, but he had to do something. He couldn't sit in that apartment with those four walls closing in on him, and really, there was nowhere else for him to go.

"Ray! I need…"

"Not now, Morris."

"Would you hurry up and get out here? We're getting slammed…"

Ray swung around to glare at him. "Do you honestly think I can't see that?"

Morris stopped, his face dropping with shock at Ray's tone.

"What's wrong with you lately?" he asked, regaining his composure. "You act like someone died."

The air left Ray's lungs in a whoosh and he narrowed his eyes on the Chief Resident. Morris actually cringed, realizing what he had said.

"Ray, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking…"

"That's nothing new," Ray snapped and headed toward the locker room. He couldn't believe that Morris had said that. "What the hell was he thinking?" he muttered to himself as he slammed open the locker room door.

"What was who thinking?"

Ray glanced to his right and found Abby sitting on the bench below her locker.

"Morris," he said tightly.

"That's a dumb question," she said dryly. "The question should be 'When does Morris think?'" She frowned. "Hey! You aren't supposed to be here for a couple more hours."

Ray shook his head without laughing. He wasn't in the mood to be cheered up right now. He crossed the room and sat down beside Abby as she tied her shoes.

"Abby…" he broke off, not sure what to say. "I just want to ask….have you…have you talked to Neela?"

She lifted her head to give him a patented Abby Lockhart stare and sighed.

"Sorry, Ray, but no. She won't even talk to me." She turned where she sat to face him squarely, tilting her head. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?" he asked warily. He knew that look on her face and prepared himself for the worst. He had a good idea of what she was about to ask.

"Did something happen between the two of you?"

He tore his eyes away from hers and rose to his feet. He didn't want to get into this right now. More accurately, he didn't want to get into it again, ever. It was easier not to think about it. It didn't hurt quite as much if he could just delude himself that it had never happened.

"No," he said tightly, turning his back on her to go to his locker. "I'm just worried about her. That's all."

"I know you're worried about her," she said reassuringly. "But I get the feeling that there's more to it than that."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She sighed audibly, sounding either tired or at the end of her patience. She rose from her place and moved to stand beside him.

"Why don't we get some coffee?" she said.

"I don't want any coffee," he said sullenly. Her expression hardened stubbornly, and he gave up. There was no way she was going to leave him alone until she'd had her say. "Why, Abby? What's this about?"

"I need to show you something, and I don't want to do it here."

"Why not? What is it?"

"Will you just come to the lounge with me?" she said in exasperation. Then her face softened. "If you care about her…"

"Fine!" he said, shoving his bag into his locker. "Let's go."

He did his best to hide the fact that his heart was starting to pound and his stomach was knotted with tension. If what Abby had to say was in any way related to Neela,then hell yes he wanted toknow. It was killing him inside that Neela wouldn't talk to him. She wouldn't answer the phone when he called. She wouldn't answer the door if he went to Abby's apartment. It didn't make him feel any better to know that she wasn't talking to Abby either. It just wasn't like Neela to hold back like this.

The lounge was empty when the entered, and Ray could only be grateful for that. He didn't want the whole world to hear what was said. He was almost afraid of what would pop out of his mouth right now. He was too tired and hurting too damn bad to care anymore.

"What is it, Abby?" he asked settling himself in a chair in the farthest corner of the room. She stared at him for a long moment before she fished in her lab coat and pulled out a letter. Ray felt his chest tighten at the sight of the familiar stationary.

"I found this today when I went over to see her," she said, holding it out to him. When he took it, she sat down next to him and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. "She was already gone, but that was on the counter. It's addressed to you."

"I can see that," he said in a choked voice. His heart felt as if it was now somewhere around his feet, feebly attempting to beat. He flipped the envelope over and saw the ragged tear on the flap. "Did you read this?" he asked, glancing at her.

Her eyes darted away from his gaze for in instant, and a guilty look crossed her features. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but I was worried about you both."

"Don't worry about me," he said a little too sharply, and cursed himself. She was only trying to help.

"I'll worry if I damn well want to," she told him without rancor. "I was worried about you before I ever read that letter, and now I know I was right to."

He blew out a breath and slumped back in his seat. He could tell by the look on her face that the letter in his hand said far more than he had ever wanted anyone to know.

"You must think I'm a complete ass," he said slowly.

"No. No I don't. Don't think I haven't seen the way you two look at each other. I'm not blind, and neither is the rest of the ER. There's something there."

"I swear to you, Abby, nothing happened between us!"

"I know. You keep saying that, and I believe you." She rose to her feet to look down at him sadly. "Just read it, Ray. After you do, if you want to talk, come find me."

After she was gone, he sat there staring at the writing on the envelope as if it held theanswers to life's mysteries. The lines were a little shaky as they rolled across the paper, but that could have been wishful thinking on his part. He held his breath and lifted the flap, pulling the letter from within. This note was folded much less neatly, almost haphazardly. Another sign to him that all was not as it should be.

_Or maybe I really am crazy, _he thought as he unfolded the paper and began to read.

_Dear Ray,_

_Yet again, I am writing a letter to you that you will never read. It's a good thing that no one knows about this or they might question my sanity. Or maybe I have gone mad, and I just don't know it yet. After all, I just buried my husband, and the only thing I can think of is you and whether you are all right._

_I'm so sorry for what I said to you on the roof. I didn't mean a word of it, but I couldn't think. I wanted you to hold me so badly that it hurt more than the pain of losing my husband. Isn't that insane? Michael died, and all I could think of was how much I wanted your arms around me. But I couldn't allow that to happen. Not then. You know me, Ray, and I always do the right thing. Good, proper Neela. All I can say is that I'm sorry for all I've done to hurt you. I pushed you away to save myself from feeling the way I do, but I can't hide from it anymore._

_I realize that you may never want a thing to do with me again. I hold myself at fault for that…for all of it. I just want you to know, that you are the best friend that I have ever had. I'm sorry I never told you that. I'm sorry I never told you any of this before, but I can't change that. All I know anymore is that I need you, Ray. More than I've ever needed anyone in my life. I only hope that one day you can forgive me for what I've done, and understand that I love you._

_Yours, always,_

_Neela_

Ray closed his eyes and swiped at the tear that had fallen unnoticed from his eye. The pain he could see written between the lines was almost more than he could take. Neela, who didn't need anyone, needed him, and God knew that he needed her. He wondered if she could have told him this had she known that he had read her first letter. Could she have told him this face to face? Would she have been able to look him in the eye and say these things to him? He didn't know. One thing was clear to him at that moment. He would wait for her. As long as it took, he would wait, and when she was ready, he would be there.

He smiled, resting his head against the back of the chair. She was worth a lifetime if that's what it took.

"Ray?"

He raised his head to find Abby standing in front of him. "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?" she asked. "I've been calling your name for a while now."

"I'm fine," he told her, looking down at the letter he still held. Silently, he folded the letter along the creases and stuffed it back into the envelope. He stood and tucked it all into his pocket with a smile.

"Oh, God," she said dryly. "You've got it bad."

His smile widened to a grin. He couldn't help it.

"You'll never know," he told her. He started past her; feeling as if he'd just had a weight lifted from him, but hesitated as she turned. "Thanks, Abby. I owe you."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Do you?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Could you just do me a favor? Could you tell her that if she needs me, to call me? I can wait as long as she needs me to."

A slow smile crossed her face.

"I can do that," she assured him. "You care about her very much, don't you?"

He laughed softly. "Let's just say that 'care' isn't a strong enough word."

She clapped her hands together and grinned.

"I knew it! You love her. Don't you?

He could only grin as he left the room, leaving her questions unanswered. What he had to say, he would say to Neela.

When she was ready…


	3. Chapter 3

3

Days passed, and Ray hadn't heard a word from Neela. Abby was starting to get irritated with his constant questions, but he couldn't help himself.

"Did you talk to her?" he would ask.

"Yes, Ray," she always answered. "Just be patient. She has a lot of things she's struggling with."

And he would try…for about five minutes. He could tell himself all he wanted that he could wait patiently for her, but the truth was, he had all the patience of a five year old who wanted ice cream. He was getting desperate for any word from her. Anything at all. Even another damn letter would be preferable to this unsettling silence. When two weeks passed without a word, he was nearly ready to lose his mind. It would have been easier to deal with if he hadn't read the letters she'd never meant for him to see. At least then he would have had the comfort of ignorance.

He trudged into the ER at the end of the third week feeling like he was going to just splinter. He would have laughed if he had the energy. Jerry frowned at him as he passed reception, and Frank gave him the usual gimlet stare.

"You really need to lay off the sauce, Barnett," he said dryly. "You look like something my dog wouldn't eat."

"Thanks, Frank. Appreciate that."

"That crap'll pickle your brain and turn your liver into a sieve, you know. Lost a lot of good cops to…"

"You think I don't know that, Frank?" Ray snapped. "For your information, I haven't been drinking."

Frank shrugged.

"Crack kills, too."

Ray rolled his eyes and kept moving. He only paused at his locker long enough to shove his bag and grab his lab coat. He was afraid that if he stopped moving for too long, he would just drop where he was. His sleep had been suffering because his mind just wouldn't turn off long enough for him to rest. He kept playing over and over in his head the words she had written. He imagined a hundred different scenarios and a thousand different things that he would say to her when she was ready to hear them. It was driving him nuts.

"Hi, Ray."

Ray turned around, his face heating at being caught daydreaming. Again. Abby gave him a wary look over her shoulder as she opened her locker.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Did you…"

She groaned and dropped her chin to her chest in an exaggerated sigh.

"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to slap you stupid. She didn't talk to me about you. She didn't mention you. She didn't tell me a damn thing. OK?"

Ray ground his teeth in frustration.

"But you told her what I asked you to tell her, right?"

"Yes, I told her. Every time you've asked me to. Five hundred times by my last count."

Ray grimaced at theirritation in her voice and shot her a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry I'm bugging you," he said. "It's just that she…"

"Ray, I know how frustrating she can be. I'm her friend, remember." She smiled. "Otherwise, I would have said all this weeks ago."

He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he'd been a pain in the ass, but—dammit!—he loved her. Everything else seemed secondary to that one fact.

"It's hard stand back and wait when you love someone," Abby said quietly.

"Yeah," he said as he turned to leave.

"Ray."

He paused, glancing at her in question over his shoulder.

"Why don't you write her a letter?"

He scowled.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked incredulously. "Write her a letter. You're out of your mind!"

She shrugged with a small smile.

"Opinions vary, but I'm serious. Write her a letter and see what happens."

"I don't want to push her…"

"Well someone has to! She's just sitting there like a lump."

She slammed her locker shut and crossed the room, pausing in front of him.

"Just write her a letter, Ray. What can it hurt?"

He stared at her until she left and the door obscured her retreating form. What could it hurt? Everything. If he pushed Neela too hard too soon, then she would bolt like a scared rabbit. He sure as hell didn't want that. With a heavy sigh, he followed Abby out of the locker room to start another day.

It wasn't until he was home that Abby's words again came back to haunt him. He stared at the flickering screen of the TV without really seeing it. The beer in his hand had long ago gone warm, and with a grimace, he dumped it down the drain. He played the answering machine again, just in case, but it played the same messages. Brett had called from Cali again, just to say hey. Some telemarketer wanted to sell him insurance. As if he didn't have enough of that. No message from Neela.

_Writer the damn letter, Ray,_ his conscience whispered.

"What the hell," he said aloud, feeling slightly stupid for talking to himself. He went to the living room and started rummaging through his junk for something resembling stationary. All he could come up with was a bundle of sheet music. He stared at if for a long moment before he shrugged and took one page. Another ten minutes, and a half a beer later, he finally found a pen that hadn't gone dry. He settled on the edge of the sofa and turned the sheet over to the clear side.

_Neela, _he began.

He paused, chewing on the end of the pen. What the hell did he say? _Call me? _Not a chance. Too pushy. _Just tell me to go to hell, if you don't want to talk. Put me out of my misery. _He laughed, scrubbing at his head. Yeah, that didn't sound desperate. He shook his head and glanced at the clock. He'd been racking his brain for an hour and only had her name at the top of a very empty sheet of paper. He laced his hands at the back of his neck and propped his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes and could picture her in his mind in every mood; happy, sarcastic, tired, laughing…crying. He blew out a breath and lifted his head. Suddenly the paper before him didn't seem so daunting. He set the pen to the paper and began to write.

Three hours later, he strode down the silent hall to Abby's apartment with a battered looking envelope in his hand. He stared at the door for a moment, then down at the envelope in his hand. It wasn't too late to just… With a sharp shake of his head, he bent down and slid the envelope under the door. Sudden panic rose in his throat over what he'd just done, but he squashed it. It was too late to take it all back now. He backed away from the door, retreating down the hall. He'd done what he could tonight. He'd bared his soul in that letter. There was nothing he could do to stop whatever would happen.

His heart heavy, he left Abby's building and headed home.

000000

"I wrote it," he told Abby the next day as he entered the lounge. He felt drugged from the lack of sleep the night before and his eyes were burning. He didn't miss her look of surprise and cringed as she pounced.

"You actually wrote her a letter?" she asked incredulously. "I didn't think…"

"That I would actually do it?" He laughed, sloshing coffee into his cracked cup. "Well, I did. I slipped it under her door last night."

"Well, I'll be damned," she said softly. Then she nodded her approval. "Good move, Barnett."

He snorted and turned away, heading for the door.

"For all the good it did. She still didn't call. She would have found it before I left for work."

"Give her some time to think, Ray. What did you say?"

He scowled over his shoulder as he yanked open the door.

"That's none of your business," he said without rancor. "What I told her is between me and her."

She raised her eyebrows and held her hands up in mock defense.

"All right already! Sorry I asked." She crossed the room and ducked around him through the door.

He couldn't hold back his grin as she strode to reception and angrily snatched up a chart. It almost felt good to get a little back at her. He left the lounge, coffee cup in hand and got back to work, feeling a little better. Neela may not have called, but he'd told her everything that he'd wanted to tell her for so long. It was all out now, for better or worse, and he could live with whatever happened now.

He wasn't so optimistic as he dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment that night. He grumbled for the millionth time about the lack of maintenance to the elevator. Didn't the super realize that people worked their asses off to pay the rent on this place? It wasn't too much to ask…

He paused in mid-thought, frowning when his door came into view. In four long strides, he was at the door, clawing at the envelope. His heart started pounding at the sight of the ivory envelope in his hand, Neela's familiar handwriting spelling out his name on the front. He tore at the flap, not caring this time if he tore the thing to shreds, just so long as he could get to the contents. His hand was shaking as he drew the single sheet of paper from the tattered envelope and opened it. There were only two words written across the sheet, and he thought his heart would stop at the sight of them.

_I'm ready._

"Ray."

He spun around, the paper falling from his hand, as she stepped from the shadows with his letter clutched between her fingers. He nearly came undone at the sight of a single tear that streamed slowly down her cheek.

"I love you, Ray. I always have." She lowered her eyes to the paper she held in her hand. Ray watched as she unfolded it and showed him the music side. He swallowed hard, suddenly realizing what he'd used for paper. A song he'd written. For her. His eyes flew back to her face, her words finally sinking in. He went hot, then cold as he crossed the hall to cup her cheek in his shaking hand. Her eyes rose to his face and held there. Her hand covered his as she pleaded with her gaze.

"I'm tired of running from what I feel," she said softly, her voice breaking. "I need you, Ray."

Sweeter words had never been spoken. He closed his eyes in relief and gathered her into his arms.

"I love you," he whispered against her hair, unable to keep the words to himself any longer.

With a sigh, she curled her arms around his neck stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him lightly. Hesitantly, he brushed her lips with his, but deepened the kiss at the feel of her hands twining in his hair. Nothing in his life had ever felt as good as the woman now in his arms, kissing him in a way that left no questions between them. The letter she'd held so tightly dropped from her hand to flutter to the carpet, showing clearly the words he'd written.

_Neela,_

_I'm not writing this to push you, or upset you. I don't want that. I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you. _

_Before I say anything else, I have a confession to make. I read the letters that you wrote to me. I know you never wanted me to see them, and it doesn't matter how or why they ended up in my hands. I read them, and that's what matters now. That and the fact that I've loved you for so long, Neela, and knowing that you feel the same way is eating me up inside. Especially when I can't be near you. I can't help you through this._

_I know that you're hurting, and I'm sorry to cause you more pain. That isn't my intention. I just want you to know that I understand why you won't answer my calls. I know why you won't see me. It doesn't make it any easier, but I do understand. What I want you to understand is that I love you. I won't go away just because you avoid me. I'll always be here for you. I can wait until you're ready. As long as it takes. _

_I promise you that I'll never give up on you, because I've never felt like this before, and I can't give that up. I love you too much to give you up._

_Ray _

Ray knelt down and picked the paper off the floor, and stood staring down at the letter. When Neela sidled up beside him, he put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close with her head against his chest. She plucked the paper from his fingers and turned it over to look at the music written on the other side.

_In Your Eyes_

_For Neela_

She glanced up at him and smiled.

"Will you play it for me?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a lopsided grin and squeezed her against him to kiss her forehead. He hadn't played his guitar in a long time, but he'd play his fingers bloody just to see that smile.

"You got it, Roomie."

**_The End_**

_For those of you that regularly read our work, you aren't used to seeing those words, lol. This story was never meant to be more than a one shot, but necessity drew it out to more. We want to thank everyone who read the last two chapters and gave their feedback and comments. We really appreciate hearing from every one of you, and are happy that you like our work! Please let us know what you think of this final chapter as well. And as always..._

_Yours,_

_butterflyswest and Erin Allen_


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